Rabid
by ProfAT
Summary: Shuuhei's not afraid, even when Renji gets tired of being cooped up in the little house, or even when he gets a little bit angry and starts to yell and Shuuhei's hand goes to the one knife he always keeps in his sleeve- just in case. Renji would never hurt him, though. They both know that. It's just precautionary. In case of emergencies. Because Renji is absolutely fine.


**Author's note: This has been rattling around in my brain for ages and I still couldn't tell you what it is. Assume an AU in which hollowfication is a lot easier for shinigami to acquire but a lot more shit can go wrong during such. Yes hello my hobbies are fanfiction and torturing Renji.**

**Originally on Ao3 because ffnet was being kinda wonky the past week.**

It's been a while since he retired and yes, he's doing fine.

It's not an easy transition, because from the very beginning he's had to live life on his feet and take ever opportunity presented to him at the very second it became available. Such inactivity doesn't come naturally to someone like him, especially when they make a career- no, a _life_ out of battle, in the pursuit of strength. Chasing it forever, sure if he could just run fast enough, stretch his arms far enough he could reach that impossible precipice when enough power was enough.

There was no precipice, obviously. Maybe that's part of the beauty, that acquiring perfection was an endless journey and one that he could learn and grow from forever. Maybe that was the horribly sad part, that for no matter how long he tried, how many Byakuya Kuchiki's he'd never beat or Rukia's he'd never be able to save on his own, none of it would bring him the unspoiled closure.

But that was okay.

Because he's doing fine.

He likes it here, in the little cottage far, far away from Seireitei. He likes it here with Shuuhei, who keeps him safe and calm so there's no chance anything bad will happen. He's caught up on all the reading that never seemed to interest him enough before, when there was always so much to worry about all the time. Sometimes his muscles get twitchy, his feet itchy and he catches a glimpse of Zabimaru sitting in its case.

Waiting there. As if calling to him.

What a magnificent trick, Renji thinks. All it would take would be for him to open the case, and that's only if Shuuhei trusts him enough to leave it unlocked. It would be just as easy to smash it to the floor, break it open until his hands bled from broken glass and pick up his beloved sword and then it would be all over. At that point he would have no idea how long he'd be able to stave off the darkness- a day? An hour? Five seconds?

But whenever he gets that impulse Shuuhei shows up with a new book, a new distraction to stave the dark and the despair and the _ragerageragerage_- the hurt. And Shuuhei will smile and stroke his hair and while Shuuhei never says he loves him, Renji knows it goes unsaid. He's sure it does, because why would Shuuhei be here if he didn't? Shuuhei's not afraid, even when Renji gets tired of being cooped up in the little house, or even when he gets a little bit angry and starts to yell and Shuuhei's hand goes to the one knife he always keeps in his sleeve just in case. Renji would never hurt him, though. They both know that. It's just precautionary. In case of emergencies.

Sometimes others show up to visit, but not often. It could have something to do with the fact that they're shocked by his state- he's grown breathtakingly pale lately, since he doesn't go outside much. He keeps in shape with simple exercises and eats when Shuuhei reminds him but there's no hiding the fact that he's lost weight. He's getting better, though. Adjusting, because he's going to be fine.

When his friends visit him, they speak as if treading on egg shells. People, ones that Renji had trusted and been trusted by in return, fearsome warriors who have stared down the blade of death, have flinched when he lifts a hand or opens his mouth to speak. They don't look him in the eyes because if they do they know he'll see something in them that shakes them down to their very core. Sometimes it's the trembling of fear, the ache of pity, or the outright swelling, burning sensation of pure horror. In the end it all wields the same result. He doesn't really care, he tells Shuuhei he doesn't really care because those looks don't mean anything anymore. He's pulling himself together best he can, fitting all the puzzle pieces back inside his head so there's no more room for the ragerageragerageragera- _he's fine._

But the worst parts are when Shuuhei leaves. Has to go back to the Seireitei to talk to the captains or the central 46 or the courts or whatever force is separating Renji from his execution. Shuuhei goes to promise them that Renji's okay, he's safe. He hasn't had an outburst in years, there's no reason to see him as a threat. But when Shuuhei has to leave it's so easy to forget about that fact, about all the time he spent getting control of himself, forgetting all the violence and the fighting and the breakingsmashingbitingclawingconsuming_killing_- because he's so in control now.

He's so in control he barely even feels the strange sensations anymore, the flickers across his body like white-hot flashes of lightning. The odd stabbing feeling in his skull, right behind his teeth like knives want to force their way through his gums and tear into flesh and rip anything and everything apart, sometimes that feeling hardly even registers in his mind. The throbbing that goes up and down his spine like beads in a rainstick as if something not quite human is trying to force it's way free and lag lazily behind his body, trailing and dragging and swiping in the air. The times when his mouth gets so dry, so impossibly dry and he's not even thirsty, and he opens his mouth to gulp down air and all that comes out is a parched clicking sound, a raw hissing that's easy enough to bite back down with a fist in his mouth because it was just an accident it probably doesn't mean anything _he's fine._

And then Shuuhei is back and everything is better. Shuuhei always listens to him and knows how he feels and knows how to keep him under control. Reminds him to eat when he forgets and to sleep and don't go outside for too long, because it's not safe. It's not safe for him. It's not safe _from_ himbecausenobodyissafenobodylivesdieskillsdestroys - _HE'S IN CONTROL everything is fine._

It's not so bad this way. Renji's one of the lucky ones. Lots of people were just like him, only they couldn't keep themselves under control. They didn't have people to take care of them or keep them calm and happy. The wilder ones, the ones that needed to be put down because they were just too dangerous to be left on their own, they're not like him. Shuuhei promised him that only happens to the darkest of hearts, certainly not to Renji.

It hasn't been easy. There were times where he wasn't so strong. He had wanted to give up, give into the despair and the dark little voices that whisper things that get louder and louder until they're screaming in his mind, shouting such hateful things because after all he's done who wouldn't be hateful to have _that all taken away in the blink of an eye, after he's done so much for this world and tried so hard to help his friends and protect people all it took was one little thing and suddenly he's not useful anymore not even stable who wouldn't be brimming with hateragedespairbloodlustohgodyoumonster._

It's a good thing Renji is better than that. And sure, it's not a great life. But it's not a bad one, either. It's okay, and he's finally free of all the responsibilities of his old life. No one asks him to fight for them, to follow them into battle and bleed for their cause. He doesn't miss it at all.

Because, he promises, he is fine.


End file.
